


lights, tinsel, then ornaments

by braedens



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Secret Relationship, but alas, really just two boys in love, who want to tell the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 09:23:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braedens/pseuds/braedens
Summary: Okay, today is definitely the day.And Stiles may have been telling himself that on every major holiday for the past year but no, seriously, today is the day.Today he’s finally going to tell his dad, the sheriff of Beacon Hills whomst Stiles is hyper-aware of the fact that he keeps a loaded gun on him at all times, he’s going to tell him that he’s dating Scott McCall.





	lights, tinsel, then ornaments

**Author's Note:**

> for my sciles secret santa, tumblr use scilesmchaleinski, who just wants to see two boys in love as much as i do
> 
> (this came out way longer than I anticipated)

Okay, today is definitely the day. 

And Stiles may have been telling himself that on every major holiday for the past year but no, seriously, today is the day.

Today he’s finally going to tell his dad, the sheriff of Beacon Hills whomst Stiles is hyper-aware of the fact that he keeps a loaded gun on him at all times, he’s going to tell him that he’s dating Scott McCall. 

“Are you ready to head out?” Scott asks, fishing the keys to the Jeep out of the bowl Stiles keeps by the door of his too-cramped New York apartment. He has Stiles’ winter coat in his hands and brandishes a wide smile that would have him melt straight to the floor if it wasn’t for his impending stress. 

Scott’s sort of a mind reader, though (or maybe he just has a habit of paying attention), because he takes the three steps it takes to a frozen Stiles and slips an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss into his hair as Stiles sighs and manages the ease a bit to his boyfriend’s touch.

“I’m fine, really.” Stiles lies.

But Scott doesn’t scoff or tease him, of course he doesn’t. He just keeps holding him there. “You know there’s still no pressure, right? I don’t mind if you want to wait to tell our parents.” Stiles keeps biting his nail, but he meets Scott’s eyes and he find reassurance and content, the same he saw the first time Stiles chickened out on telling their parents they were together. 

Maybe that was okay a year ago, you know? When they started dating, it almost felt like nothing had changed. One night, they’re playing Smash Brothers together in between final exams and study cram sessions, and the next Scott’s being poisoned almost to the death by a Echnida-esque creature in the middle of the night to raise some sort of hell, with their luck. Scott healed, obviously (thanks to Deaton), but not before Stiles could profess his love through Scott’s wretched screaming when he literally thought his best friend might die in his arms.

 It was pretty cliche, really, but then again their lives seem to be written like some 90’s teen sci-fi show anyway.

 The thing is, everything just stayed the same after that. Well, aside from the increase of outward affection. And making out. Oh, and the sex. Definitely, the sex was a new thing. But Scott and Stiles had always been Scott and Stiles. And Stiles thinks, in the back of his head, he always knew he loved Scott, and that Scott loved him back. It just needed to happen naturally.

 It took everyone months to figure it out, mostly because they never really needed to change how they acted around each other. Lydia was the first to know, obviously, despite not even being in the same fucking state as them. But that’s Lydia Martin for you. Slowly, they told their friends, made it “official”, or whatever that really meant. But, as for telling their parents, well, Stiles just couldn’t seem to bring it up even if he tried.

 “Stiles?” Scott asks, bringing Stiles back to clarity.

 “I know, I know there’s no pressure.” Stiles says, even though he’s a bit skeptical that he even believes that. “But I have to. We have to!” He meets Scott’s eyes, and takes a step back from his embrace to hold his shoulders. “I want to,” he reassures.

 Scott leans in and Stiles relishes in the one thing that can calm him down in almost any situation he’s ever been in. It’s a soft kiss, and Scott always does that thing where he exhales a hum so soft that Stiles think the only reason he knows it happens is because he feels it on his lips. And it’s so goddamn sincere that it makes Stiles wonder how he could ever bag Scott McCall in the first place.

 They pull apart, and Stiles just knows he has a goofy grin on his face. “We should head out soon, we’ll miss our flights.” Scott says, giving Stiles’ waist a final rub before brandishing his jacket to him. “You know my mom will kill us if we miss the tree decorating.”

 Stiles scoffs, but he grabs his luggage from the door and trails Scott out of the apartment. “Yeah, well maybe she shouldn’t buy ten thousand ornaments for a single six-foot tree.”

 “She likes her ornaments, sue her for loving the _holidays_ , Stiles.”

 Stiles barks out a laugh and locks his apartment, the rock in his stomach settling just a bit more.

 

* * *

 

“Stiles, how many Christmases have you done this and you still can’t manage to remember that the order is lights, tinsel, _then_ ornaments?”

 An hour in and of course, Stiles is already getting scolded by Melissa about the order of operations via holiday decorations. Ever since Scott and Stiles moved out for college, every Christmas Melissa offers to pick them up from the airport in exchange for tree decorating so that she can prep for Christmas dinner. And every year since he was fourteen, Stiles has managed to fuck up the tree that Melissa has to step in and reassess.

 Scott’s in the kitchen helping with the prep because out of the two of them, Scott’s the most competent in the kitchen. Stiles is really only good for digging a spoon into a pint of ice cream. Melissa’s about to start taking down the work Stiles’ has invested in the tree when Scott dusts his hands and rushes over to them in the living room.

 “Mom, I’ll handle this.” He pushes in between them, taking the tinsel from her hands. “Besides, you’re way better at making menudo than I am.”

 That seems to really do the trick, because she gives them both narrow glares before moving back to the kitchen. “Scott, make sure he does it right this time. Lights, tinsel-”

 “Ornaments,” the three of them say in unison, Stiles’ more or a groan than an enthusiastic participant. But Scott grins so cheesy and wide and bumps his shoulder, and he figures not all can be terrible if they get to spend more time together that isn’t riddled with exam stress or exhaustion. It’s definitely a breath of fresh air than last year, when Scott and Stiles had barely defined what they were or if they were even dating, let alone were remotely ready to try and subdue it all in front of their parents.

 When they’re sure Melissa is out of earshot and busy prepping the soup, Scott chimes in while he’s unraveling lights around the trip from Stiles’ hands.

 “So, what did you get me for Christmas?” he grins, his brows wiggling. Stiles isn’t dumb- he knows Scott’s just trying to get him to stop thinking about the real topic that’s been eating at him, and he knows Scott knows because Stiles can’t stop biting his damn nails.

 He’s thankful for the excuse though. “As the resident Best Gift Giver in this duo, you should know better than to think I’ll give up even an ounce of the surprise.”

 “Best?” Scott snaps, raising a brow. “I blew your birthday out of the water!”

 “A vacation isn’t a gift, Scott.”

 “Like hell it isn’t!”

 Stiles shakes his head, following him around the tree as he strings the lights on in the inside of it. “Listen, there are two categories of gifts- items and experiences. You can’t compare the two because they just aren’t the same.”

 Scott narrows his eyes, showing a striking resemblance to his mom in that moment. “Who made you the gatekeeper of gift categorization?”

 He shrugs. “It is not a choice, it is my fate.”

 This time Scott rolls his eyes, but he’s fond in his actions and a smile slips through, and for a second Stiles want nothing more than to just kiss him. It’s just like any other moment they’ve been together the past year, really. He even leans into Scott’s space a bit, the heat from Scott’s body and the light Spanish Christmas music that plays in the background make it incredibly too easy. He forgets, for a brief moment, that there’s anything stopping him. And Scott has that smile, God, that sweet smile that’s lopsided and he tilts his head just a bit and Stiles really does love him…

 “Merry Christmas!”

 And Stiles may have very well leapt five feet at the slamming of the front door and the booming voice he’s grown accustomed to his entire life. And suddenly he’s droppin the lights in his hand on the floor and he tries not to think about the look on Scott’s face as he turns around.

 “Dad!” he slaps on his best poker face and smiles to see his dad coming in from the door, slipping his coat and Sheriff's belt off to hang.

 They fall into a hug that mostly patting backs and strong holds, and Stiles just realizes how much he’s missed his dad this past year. He rarely gets to come home to visit except for winter break and he’s not entirely convinced that Melissa has been keeping up with Stiles’ strict diet regimen for him.

 “It’s good to see you son,” John sighs, and pulls back from the hug. “Look at you, it feels like it’s been forever.”

 “I know, I know. But school, and life,” he waves a hand in the air. “It’s been busy.”

 John smiles, and looks over his shoulder. “Scott!”

 They exchange the same greeting, more formalities when Melissa comes over as well.

 “Dinner’s just about ready, you boys hungry?”

 “Starving,” John says, placing a hand on his stomach.

 “Uh, Melissa, please tell me you made healthier alternatives for my old man here? He seems to think the holidays are his cheat days.” Stiles say, throwing a hand on his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

The thing he, it’s not like Stiles thinks his dad will be angry, per say. He truly thinks that if he can handle finding out about the supernatural, surely hearing his son tell him he’s into dudes won’t throw him off as much. But perhaps it’s more about their relationship, and more importantly, Stiles’ desire to keep it very much in tact.

 It’s been just him and his dad for so long, Stiles is more than aware at how much his dad tries to be as involved as he can be. His dad has been so proud about the idea that he knows everything about his son, Stiles is mostly worried that telling him might shift their dynamic. And he’s pretty fond of their dynamic.

 “So how are you? What’s new, son?” John follows them into the kitchen where Melissa is cleaning up the dishes with Scott.

  _Okay, this is it,_ he thinks. _What better time to tell them than now?_ He looks over at Scott, who just gives him a dopey smile and, okay, he’s going to do this.

 “Actually, there is something I want to tell you,” Stiles draws out, and he doesn’t even recognize that he’s already has his nail in his mouth.

  _Why are you freaking out?_ He thinks to himself. He feels his palms get sweaty, and though this may not be the first nor the last time that ever happens to him, he deems it a bit inappropriate seeing as his dad just asked him a simple question. _Here you, go, just say it..._

 And his dad chuckles. “What, you finally found a girl to put up with you?”

 And that, well, that just shatters his confidence into a million pieces. He feels a lump grow in his throat, and sucks his teeth. He shares a look with Scott, who’s eyes just look disappointed more than anything, but he can’t tell if it’s directed toward him or his dad. Either way, he diverts his eyes to the ground.

 “No,” he shakes his head. “I, uh, I was just going to tell you that I finally decided on a thesis project,” he trails off, and shifts all his energy to a conversation he feels like he’s mostly watching rather than being an active participant is.

 His mind is somewhere else.

 

* * *

 

It’s around midnight, and Scott softly clicks the room of his bedroom door behind him, pajama clad and hair slightly wet and tousled. He gives a lazy smile towards Stiles who’s sitting up in his bed in boxers, teeth nibbling on his thumb. His dad’s went home for the night, early shift at the station in the morning, and Stiles figured he’d stay behind for some more reason than avoiding any more questioning from his dad. He can’t think of the reasons at the moment, but they’re there.

 He doesn’t register the bed dip, but he blinks when he feels a hand push his away from his mouth and lace it with soft fingers.

 “Hey,” Scott mumbles, pressing his lips to the back of Stiles’ hand before he settles more into the bed next to him.

 “Are you mad at me?” Stiles turns to look at Scott. “Because I’m mad at me.”

 He half expects Scott to laugh, or even agree with him. But instead he’s met with soft strokes of a thumb in his hand where Scott’s holding it close to his chest.

 “Stiles, I’m not mad.”

 “Yeah, well you should be.” he groans, flopping back into the pillow so he’s lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling. “I completely choked. I have absolutely nothing to be afraid of, and I still can’t look my dad in the eyes and tell him that we’re dating.”

 “C’mere,” Scott says, and it’s all Stiles needs to hear before he’s letting Scott envelop him in his arms and bringing the comforter over them, wrapping his arms around Scott’s waist and pressing his cheek to his chest, and on the inhale he can smell the soap Melissa insists keeping stocked in the house for no other reason than she likes the smell.

 “Your dad loves you no matter what. And so does my mom,” Scott says, carding fingers through Stiles hair. “When you’re ready to tell them, I know they’ll be understanding and loving. What matters to me is that you’re comfortable and ready to. So, if it means waiting, I don’t mind at all.” Stiles feels a kiss pressed onto his forehead.

 He’s always had a habit of saying the right things at the right time.

 “Besides, I kind of like the sneaking around thing. We never got to do that last Christmas.”

 “Well, that’s because I was a nervous wreck last year.” Stiles snorts. “And I distinctly remember us never having actually claimed we were boyfriends to each other, so… yeah.”

 “You slept on the sofa! You never once had slept on the sofa in all the years we’ve known each other. It was more suspicious than if you had actually shared the room with me.”

 Stiles rolls his eyes and tries to push away from Scott’s embrace. “Okay, well! What did you want from me? I wanted to make sure you were in it for the long haul.”

 Scott doesn’t let him go, though. In fact, Scott pulls him closer to his chest, hands splayed on his back and peppers light kisses to Stiles neck. “I wanted,” a kiss to his cheek. “You to,” right under his ear. “Come up,” his neck. “And kiss me.” and his collarbone.

 Stiles really tries not to giggle while this is happening, but Scott knows he’s ticklish and how to press at his soft spots, so he just lets his hands rest on the sides of Scott’s face to still him, thumb brushing right under his lip.

 “I’m here now, that must count for something right?”

 Scott hums, his hooded eyes make him look so much softer and calmer that Stiles wants to just live in this moment and in his arms. “I guess you’ll have to show me,” and not even Scott lets Stiles make the move, no he’s already leaning in and kissing Stiles breathless, tangled in the sheets of his childhood bed and moonlight spilling into the room.

 

* * *

 

It was supposed to go differently, but much like anything that happens in Stiles life, it happens suddenly and a tad inappropriately. Stiles is a planner, he had an order to the universe and he likes that nine out of the ten times he has complete control over how things happen when they directly affect him.

 This must be that one tenth of the time.

 The next day had gone better than expected, if he said so himself. He and Scott finished decorating the tree to Melissa’s liking (sure he had to redo the ornament placing once or four times, but he saw it to the end), and they even carved out some time to find some last minute gifts for Allison and Isaac, who last minute decided to come down from UCSD for the holidays.  

 But dinner be the death of him.

 Look, he was excited okay. Melissa made the best menudo he’s ever had and Scott and and Stiles weren’t really the homecooked meal type at NYU. So, if it’s _possible_ that for just a second he got wrapped up in the spirit of traditions and family, then can you really blame him?

 “You’re lucky, Stiles, when I was in school, I was making $5.50 an hour, and that was considered good,” Melissa teases, passing a plate of bolillo rolls around the small table to Scott. They’ve been laughing and reminiscing about their parents’ college days while they’ve been catching them up on their lives. Allison and Isaac seated on one side, Scott and Stiles on the other, and Melissa and John on the ends.

 “Why are we forgetting that inflation is a thing?” Stiles says, mouthful of soup be damned. “I’m pretty sure I’m accumulating more on my interest on my student debts alone than my yearly income.”

 John chuckles heartily, pointing a spoon at Stiles. “That’s because you won’t leave that copywriting job.”

 “The people are good and honest! I’d rather that than a meaningless paycheck.”

 “And you really love it there, right? I mean, you’re taking the LSAT in May so better to not have a job that stresses you out.” Allison chimes in, always the bright side of a cloudy day.

 John nods. “If it makes you happy, then so be it. I remember in college, all I cared about was your mother,” he nods at Stiles. “Our first date, I couldn’t afford to get her flowers, so I picked a different flower from every house on the way to hers and made this bouquet,”

 At this point, everyone is laughing, and Melissa is shaking her head “You didn’t,” she laughs. And it’s moments like these where Stiles loves to bring up his mom, when they can celebrate her and think of the memories where she was happy and young.

 “It’s true! I gave it to her, dirt and all, and she just laughed,” John smiles.

 “That sounds better than our first date,” Stiles laughs. “Scott and I had a romantic evening in the NYU dining hall at midnight.”

 The whole room goes still, quietly. Everyone stops laughing, like their holding their breath, and even Isaac has his mouth open, spoon halfway between the bowl and his mouth. Stiles in confused for a split second, and then it hits him.

 Suddenly, he doesn’t know where to look, so he just looks at Scott, who’s just staring at him with the same damn wide eyes.

 Fuck.

 Can you blame him? Everything felt so simple for a moment- Scott laughing next to him, the familiar smell surrounding them. It’s the holidays, for fucks sake. Sue him for forgetting that he had anything to hide.

 It seems like ages before someone says something. But when his dad speaks up, he instantly wishes that they could have stayed silent about this for the entirety of his life.

 “You...you and Scott?” he asks, more conflicted than stern.

 And, listen, it’s one of those moments that Stiles has practiced in his head numerous times. He’s played every scenario, every turn of phrase in his mind and bracketed it out to the best and worst possible outcomes. But, right now, he has nothing to say. Or, more like he cannot find the muscle memory to remember how to use his mouth.

 But then, Scott’s hand is on his lap under the table, and it may have been to stop his leg bouncing that he didn’t even notice he was doing, but a feeling of warmth washes over him, and he figures, what the hell?

 If there’s anyone he’d fall into Tartarus for, it’s Scott.

 He swallows, and his hand moves to hold Scott’s on his lap. “Uh, yeah.”

 “How long?” Melissa asks, and this time Scott perks up.

 “Give or take a year.”

 This time Stiles takes a chance to look at his dad, and he feels like this silence goes on forever. And then, the unimaginable happens.

 John, leans back in his chair, sighs, and crosses his arms.

 “Well, it’s about time then, isn’t it?”

 Stiles just about chokes. There’s nothing in his mouth, but he has a coughing fit almost instantly.

 “About time?” he wheezes, and he barely registers Isaac barking laughing, holding onto Allison’s shoulder, who is doing her best to hide her smile.

 “I told you, you both aren’t good at hiding it,” Isaac says.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Stiles figures this was probably the best, and only way he would have told their parents. But when Scott’s snuggled up to his side under a blanket on the sofa with the fireplace going, Melissa and John in the lounge chairs with holiday movies playing into the night, he thinks there’s nothing more worth the wait.


End file.
